Legends of Camelot
by Lovingh3art
Summary: A cocky prince destined to be king. A serving boy with a magical secret. A paradoxical land plagued by something ancient. The Legends find themselves more confused than ever when they step foot in Camelot once again, this time searching for a magical fugitive.
1. Ding, Dong!

**(3/6/18)- I've had this crossover in mind for a while, mainly because I am a BIG fan of both shows. And considering that Legends' current season is all about magic and the team has visited Camelot before, why not? I just hope you readers into this as a thing. Thanks!**

**Yes, I am also doing three other stories that need to be worked on and finished, so just clarifying that all of these will be worked on and done proper. I can promise that!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Legends of Tomorrow or Merlin. Long live both amazing series! **

* * *

"_Captain Lance?" _

"Mmm…Ava?"

"_No, Captain Lance. I'm afraid Director Sharpe has left the ship."_

That got the captain of the Waverider, Sara Lance, to snap quickly awake. She blinked, breathed out, and looked around. It appeared, to her repeated annoyance, that she'd fallen sleep on the bridge in her command chair. Why was this happening especially to her, out of the offenders on the timeship?

"Oh, geez…sorry, Gideon. Guess I was-"

"_Asleep_?" the A.I. guessed. "_No apologies are necessary, Captain."_

"Thanks." She unhooked her chair strap and then walked towards the ship's command console, where Gideon's holographic face flickered to life. "What's the problem?"

"_It appears that Mr. Rory is in a confrontation with Mr. Constantine in the dining quarters_," Gideon relayed. "_Something about mustard and ketchup, I believe_."

"I'll take it. Thanks." Sighing, she walked annoyedly into the corridor to eventually find herself in the hall. Just when she'd gotten in the dining room, Sara ducked to avoid a flying bottle of…_mustard?_

"Hey!" Sara yelled. "What the heck is going on here?"

The agitated muscle that was Mick Rory mumbled something Sara decided not to think about. "Brit Coat replaced all my sandwich grub with his fancy magic juju. And now there's no mustard!"

"Then maybe Mr. Rory here shouldn't have gotten in the way of my morning rites, eh?" Constantine snorted while in a defensive position. "You can last a day or two without a sandwich, mate."

"Can you last without your face? Mick whipped out his heat gun and pointed it at him. His finger was a second away from the trigger before Sara forcibly lowered it down.

"Uh, no!" She responded angrily. "I get that the two of you are still settling in with each other, but we've got bigger things to worry about than a pissing contest. We're hunting fugitives, remember?"

Constantine snorted. "Exactly the reason I'm here, love. And as it happens, best excuse to not have to deal with sergeant anger here."

The comment only made Mick's face more inflamed. "Fine! At least fugitives are more dangerous." Then he stormed out of the mess room.

"What is with you?" Sara lightly jabbed John's shoulder. "Someday soon, you're going to need to learn to live with the rest of us, John, being that we're on the same ship..."

The warlock snorted again. "Like I said, I'm not a team player, love." He polished off one of his coat cuffs, gripped a cigarette, and lit it to his mouth. "I live how I want to."

Sara snatched the light out from his lips. "Well, until we come to an agreement about that, no smoking in the dining room."

"Didn't think there were smoke detectors on this bucket of junk!" he rattled when she started off on her way.

"_Beg your pardon, Mr. Constantine_?" Gideon broadcasted into the room. "_I seem to have a well-fed garbage compactor on standby_."

"Well played," the warlock grumbled. "Guess me and my smokes'll-"

The sentence was rudely interrupted when a sudden lurch sent John smashing into the table. After the ship more or less had settled, he breathed with darkened eyes and rubbed his bristling nostrils.

"_The bloody hell was that?!"_

* * *

Zari looked at the screen, seeing a holographic image of old parchment pieces wracked with wrinkles and other stains. The formation couldn't be correct, but then again, that most likely was the reason the timeline was in a fuss.

"You wankers woke me up from sleep!" Charlie yelled as she stormed in, wearing what looked to be retro pajamas. "Got any good reasons?"

Ray coughed. "Time quake."

"Time what? Speak up, genius!"

"Time quake," Zari corrected. "Something changed history so badly, it affected everything that ever happened. Lucky that we're still in the temporal zone."

Sara walked in, flanked by Mick and Constantine. "Gideon, what's the problem?"

"_According to the timeline, the fabled city of Camelot has been burned to a crisp in the year 481. Tales report of some sort of demon that sent the city into chaos. In fact, most historical sources no longer report that King Arthur even exists. He's been replaced by the legend of the Blood Demon, a murderous cannibal by trade_."

"Since when can one demon obliterate an entire city?" Ray asked out of curiosity.

"You'd be surprised, Palmer," Constantine objected. "I've faced a lot of monsters, but demons? They're the worst. They get inside your soul, twist you into a crooked version you'd never consider, and then exploit that for personal gain. So believe me when I tell you that they're bad news."

'Okay, but why Camelot?" questioned Zari. "You'd think the demon who did this would've done their homework, considering its' historical importance."

"Right…but then, none of you blokes did your homework when you broke Mallus' prison, now did you?" The warlock retorted.

Sara sighed. "That's…you know what? Never mind. Gideon, set a course for Camelot."

"Af_firmative, Captain_," the digital intelligence whizzed. The ship's systems chirped to life, causing the six legends to enter their seats.

"Haircut!" Mick yelled over to Ray from his spot. "You think they got some mustard back in Came-what's its name?

Eyebrows raised, Ray said, "I…well, I can't rule out the possibility of it."

"Hh. Works for me," Mick grumbled.

"Everybody, hang on!" Sara yelled from the captain's chair. The ship rocked and bolted as the effects of time pushed onto it. "We're going back to Camelot!"

* * *

In the cold of night, a cloaked man dressed in browned wrinkles made his way through the road. He was careful not to disturb the chipped cobble pavement with his walking, as he'd heard reports of bandits stalking these places. Nevertheless, he kept an open eye about him for danger; the last thing Jason-

_Wait_. He paused, swirling his face to scrutinize. Nobody was behind him, but small twig cracks were happening all around him. His ears could hear them, and with the training that he'd experienced before, he knew what these men were doing.

They were about to attack.

"You might as well come out, men," the man demanded wearily. "I know you're there."

A laugh passed his ears before several sets of feet, cheap leather and daggers big and small surrounded him. The leader, obviously the one with a greyed beard, stepped forward. "Not bad, peasant. Nobody tends to hear us when we strike."

"Then I guess I'm not nobody."

The rest of the man guffawed, but the leader remained stern. He grabbed a long dagger from his rib and dangled it at the stranger. "You know what we want. Give it here."

He wasn't about to give them that, especially since he'd come so far. "Sorry, but you seem to be mistaken. I'm heading to Camelot. And judging by the fact that I don't own a horse, I'm penniless."

"Camelot? What business you got with Uther?" Another robber wisecracked.

"Shut it!" The leader demanded, and the robber obliged. "Give your money here, man. We won't ask again."

That was it. They'd _both_ had enough.

"Sorry, but you might want to talk with him about that," the stranger added.

"Him? Who's him?

At first, the robbers assumed the man was purporting more nonsense. But then out of nowhere, his arms and legs began to crack and contort until he was bending backward in pain of some variety. His skin darkened in color, his eyes lit up, and a voice that had to be from hell followed.

"_Hello, gentlemen. Are you ready for the end of your lives to begin?"_

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review, favorite, or follow if you'd like! I plan on making a decent crossover here, one of many that will not be part of the "****Potluck" anthology, and i plan on drawing well from both shows's continuities for it. I can promise that the mysterious man is a DC character and has a peculiar connection to somebody from _Merlin_, but whom? Feel free to shoot off guesses! And til' next time!**


	2. Approaching Festivities

**(3/17/19) – Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter of this story, and especially **_**alchemistofplants**_** for favoriting. This chapter acts as a way for the Merlin characters to be introduces, and as a fan I'm trying to do every one of them justice. **

**Without further ado, chapter two!**

* * *

Arthur Pendragon took a laborious look around his chambers, finding an unmade bed, no breakfast, and his armor still unpolished. He'd assumed that by the time he got out of his personal washroom, Merlin would've taken care of, or at least got a head start, on the tasks he was supposed to do. And yet again, no. Perhaps another night at the tavern was to blame.

"Merlin!"

He let the shout carry past the walls, then was about to bellow before the door creaked and the manservant entered. Dressed in his brown jacket, blue linen shirt, and red scarf coiled around his neck, Merlin stood standing at relaxed attention. His face looked pleasant; Arthur sure wasn't.

"Yes, sire?"

"Where were you?" Arthur asked accusingly. "You're normally – no, supposed to be here by now."

The manservant scratched his fluffy black hair. "Uh…slept in late while studying. Sorry, it won't happen again."

"Really?" Arthur touched his temple. "We may work together Merlin, but that doesn't mean you can slack off at the tavern when you feel like it."

"I wasn't-" Merlin paused as he noticed the state of the room and then looked back to Arthur. "Sorry, sire. Anything you need to be done today?"

"Glad you asked," Arthur responded with visible satisfaction. "Besides cleaning my room up, I'd like some proper breakfast, and it'd be a _great_ help if you could polish my armor for the tournament in a few days."

"There's a tournament?" asked Merlin as he bent down to start folding the bed back into place. Every time he heard the word _tournament_ only meant more work for him.

"Are you lazy and deaf at the same time?" Arthur asked. "Everybody has been preparing for it during the last month or so."

"Guess it slipped my mind," Merlin replied.

Arthur sighed. "Of course you did. My father's holding it to honor his first slaying of a witch at the start of the Great Purge. I don't know the exact details, but it's something quite close to his heart. Also, several other kingdoms we have friendly relations with will be attending."

Merlin's head perked up, almost done with making the bed clean again. "Doesn't that seem a bit much? Holding a tournament to honor killing someone years ago?"

"I don't have a say in the matter, Merlin. No matter how…dark it seems."

The manservant noticed a black fog over Arthur's eyes and decided to change the subject.

"Since you're probably going to enter, Arthur, at least you've got one thing going for you in this tournament."

Arthur withdrew from his solemn position. "And that is?"

Merlin smiled as if the other man was missing a huge clue. "Gwen, you clotpole! You can show off your moves while she's in the audience!"

"Merlin, if you breathe a word of this to her, I'll have you in the stocks again." The prince pointed a finger at him, half-serious and half-flushing.

"You're kidding, right?" Then Arthur's deadpan continued to hold and he gulped. "Okay. Lips sealed. Better get off to finding your breakfast and polishing your armor, eh?" He grabbed the gear and exited through the door, closing it in a hurried fashion.

"…Clotpole? How long is that name going to amuse him?" The prince couldn't help snickering.

* * *

Post-getting Arthur some breakfast and then polishing his armor as good as new (which took an hour at least), the manservant maneuvered through the castle hastily. He still had an errand or two to do for Gaius, but thanks to his embarrassing sleep, had forgotten what exactly they were. A necessary reminder would be most helpful.

He was turning the corner when he bumped into another figure. Neither managed to fall, but Merlin noticed the person had a familiar face about them. "Gwen!"

"Merlin!" The dark-skinned servant, dressed in a watery green dress, paused. "Where are you off to?"

"Gaius," he elaborated. "He's probably got some chores that I need to attend to. You?"

"The usual," Gwen replied with a warm smile. "I'm getting some water for Morgana's evening bath. You think Camelot would have a more productive way to fetch it rather than carrying buckets…"

Merlin nodded. "I know what you mean. Gwen, out of curiosity, what are Morgana's feelings towards the new tournament?"

Gwen gripped her arm, her demeanor dropping into concern. "Not good. We haven't talked as much as we used to since she returned, but…recently, she's been going on about how she despises it. The whole concept seems chilling to her."

"And yet, it's still happening," Merlin added.

"Well, Uther is the king," Gwen pointed out. "Might as well deal with it. Anyways, I better be off. Good luck with your tasks."

"You too!" Merlin exclaimed. He turned the corner and continued on his way, but he couldn't help wondering if the tournament was going to illicit another assassination attempt from Morgana. He'd already foiled a few already, so would an event like this spur another?

_How's she going to take this? _

* * *

Morgana sat at the window of her room, watching through the glass as banners and wooden decorations were carried by a few legions of commoners. She mentally spat at them and their efforts. It wasn't until she singled out a mocking banner cloth with some vulgar witch drawing that she retreated to the rest of her space.

The very idea disgusted her. Not only could it disrupt her plotting with Morgause, but it was just…unfathomable! Uther treated witches, warlocks, and anything magic as dirt beneath his heels. Appropriating it was a level too far. She wanted to speak out and decry him, maybe even use her off skills to secretly embarrass him, but the caution in her mind whipped out. She and her sister had plans for the future of Camelot, and acting now would put those plans in jeopardy. Playing wiser moves would be necessary at the moment.

"The fools," she breathed. She took another slow breath and walked to her drawer, her finger on the cabinet handle. She would write a letter to Morgause and get the wisdom she needed. Yes, that was the answer.

But what Morgana was planning on writing would have to wait. A heavy knock sounded on the door.

"Just a moment!" Morgana called, tucking the drawer back in and then waltzing to the door. She opened it, not expecting it to be the king himself. "Your grace!"

"Morgana," Uther replied warmly. He looked a little into her room. "Your chambers are quite dark. Are you sure you get enough light in this part of the castle?

She managed a smile, even though internally her will hissed at the comment. "I have adequate lighting. Is there something you wished to discuss?"

"Yes. As you're already aware, there's a tournament in a few days, dedicated to my slaying of Alara the Terrible." A golden look seemed to buzz in his eyes, which Morgana struggled not to detest. "Several of our allies will be in attendance, as will be the knights that protect us. I was hoping that I could count on you to be there?"

_No, you monster. I will not be there to support you. You might as well burn yourself!_

"Of course. When have I let you down?"

Uther chuckled. "Never that I can recall. See you at dinner, Morgana." He bowed a tad and turned past the stone hallway, his cape disappearing past the corner.

Morgana shut the door with a slow motion, but once she had entered into the darkness again, silently squeezed her fist and stretched her lips in anger. Pretending for the sake of appearances was exhausting, too much for her taste. She dashed back to the cabinet, opened it to find the paper and ink, and placed them on the table to start writing.

"Sister, I hope you can be here soon. We must do something about this tournament..." Morgana read out as the letter stated.

* * *

Passing up aged stone steps, Merlin entered the dusty chambers that he shared with Gaius, finding the scientist hovering over one of the wooden tables with two concoctions in flasks. The elderly physician put them down when he spied his apprentice.

"Where have you been? I've been requiring your help for some time, Merlin!" He asked.

"Uh, working?" Merlin pointed out. "Gaius, I overslept and already got in hot water with Arthur. So please just tell me what I need to get." His face pleaded sincerity with innocence.

"Fair enough," Gaius reciprocated. He moved to the other wooden table closer to the stairs, reading a short parchment list in his hand. "I'm expecting plenty of injuries and drunkenness from the upcoming tournament. That means we'll need a few hands of blue poppy and some Frogbark. Think you can go get me some, quickly?"

The boy balked. "Frogbark? That's all the way on the other side of the forest! By the time I'll get back, it'll be pitch black."

"Then maybe you should've thought in advance about that," said Gaius. "It's not as if you're defenseless, Merlin."

"I know…" He sighed, grabbed his satchel, and made for the door. "I bet if you were in my shoes, Gaius, you'd complain as much about this as I do."

Gaius chuckled. "How did you think I became a physician, Merlin? It's good exercise for someone your age."

"Right…" The young man tugged at the satchel and left, trudging down the stairs in compliance.

"Oh, and Merlin!" Gaius yelled down. "If you can find a leech or two for my tank, that would be splendid!"

He prayed that he had heard that.

* * *

The evening was highly apparent, even in the forest. Through the pines and large wooden trees, Merlin made out an aged orange sky that seemed to be slowly fading into blue. The point? He needed to hurry up. He knew by the paths he passed that he was getting close, but lately he'd been hearing about bandit raids in this very area. And what happened if Merlin had to use magic to defend himself? What would happen if he was found out?

Clearly, he was overthinking it. Merlin's mind got a break when he came to the edge of the spot and saw near the upcoming lake plants with blue colors. _Blue poppy! _He raced to them, his hands inspecting the symptoms, and quickly rolled them into his bag. Gaius would be pleased, as would he. Now all he needed was Frogbark, and if his knowledge was correct-

"Aaaaggghhh!" He ducked backward, falling onto a pile of leaves as a geyser of bright fire flew over him. No part of him was screaming with pain, but his mind was already racing. An attacking dragon? No, he was the dragonlord. That was wrong. Another sorcerer could've done it, but he thought he might've sensed them at least…

"Mick, don't fry people we've barely met!"

A woman's voice? It was rough and…might he say, savvy. And there appeared to be a group with her, as he heard the leaves and twigs snapping under multiple feet. Once Merlin righted himself, he saw at least five strangers dressed in varying types of clothing walking up to him.

"W-who are you people?" was all that he could manage to get out.


	3. The New Yahoos in Town

**(8/28/19)- I'm back!**

**Everyone who has been into this fanfic, I apologize at length for not updating in so long. I was going through some stuff in school, in life, and my career. The summer was…complicated, but I'm back at school early and have a much better head on my shoulders now. Really, thank you to everyone who's been into this fic; that includes **_**Cautioushoney (I appreciate the review!), The Clownfather, Midnightgirl00, TheDoctor1963, Wonkie, VisionsAreReal, Somkeyallie, Halo99Elite, Broly Uzamaki, and ArturusMyrddin. **_**Because from here on out, this story and all my other ones will be getting the love they deserve!**

**Onto chapter three!**

* * *

The Waverider landed with a graceful thud upon an open space far off from any settlements, then went into Its camouflaged modest right after. All things considered, the systems were at peak efficiency. It was the inhabitants inside, however, that begged to differ.

"Oi!" Constantine moaned after tumbling from his seat straps, looking worse for wear. "Why do my insides feel like dragon blood? Think I might throw up…"

"_Motion sickness, Mr. Constantine_," Gideon whizzed electronically. "_Time jumps while history is being rewritten never do well for travelers aboard the Waverider. Thankfully, that and other symptoms tend to fade away quickly."_

Mick chortled heavily, getting up from his seat. "That's what you get for smoking too much, brit coat."

"Really?" dared back Constantine. "Don't worry, pal, I'll give you a motion sickness of your own quite soon."

Ray, nervous about the increasing tension and the duo's repeating feud, piped up awkwardly. "G-Gideon! Where are we, exactly?"

"_Happy to answer, Doctor Palmer_." In place of the A.I.'s avatar floating, a blinking 3-D map of the environment appeared instead. The Legends walked up, glancing towards both the land and the computer screens to get a good sense of it all. "_By my calculations, we are located in western France in the year 415. The nearest settlement appears to be the land of Camelot, ruled with a stern hand by King Uther Pendragon."_

"Hold up a sec," Sara stated, blinking her eyes. "_Uther_ Pendragon? As in King Arthur's dad?"

"_Correct, Captain_."

Sara, Ray, and Mick looked at each other, their faces concerned about something unspoken.

"What's the fuss about?" Charlie demanded. "We got a problem here or what?"

Ray gulped. "It's…last time we traveled to Camelot, we met King Arthur. But if we're back before that, like years before-"

"-we're meeting the turd as a prince, right?" Mick finished for him. "Youth. Never a bad sight."

"That's not the point, dodo!" Sara exclaimed. "Whatever happens here stops Arthur from becoming king when we met him. Which means…"

"Oh no," Zari realized. "If we don't stop this, then your guys' personal history could get completely messed up."

"Exactly," surmised Sara.

"Great," concluded Constantine. "We get to Camelot, and the first thing you band of blokes do is start complaining about time travel. I'd rather we just find the monster and snag it."

"Yeah, about that…" noted Sara, "John, you and Ray need to stay on the ship. The rest of us are going to see about getting into the city."

The warlock chortled. "Did you forget who here is the magician, Lance?"

"I don't think she did," Ray chimed in, "but it would be good for us to make sure everything's in order. Oh! You could help me with my anti-magic gun we used on Mallus!"

"…Wonderful…" The sullen-looking magician turned to walk off. "But just so you know, Lance, don't forget to call me if you need help. Guess I should go research what creature we could be dealing with."

"And while he's off looking through dusty pages, we're going to have some rollicking fun!" Charlie added excitedly.

"During a time where witch burning was common?" Zari interrupted.

Charlie gulped, her spirits fizzled. "Oh. Right."

* * *

Trudging through the empty-looking woods, Sarah looked down at the dark blue dress Gideon has fashioned for her. It wasn't the first time she'd worn one to go undercover in historical settings, and the sight of the medieval markings inspired nostalgia for the storybook clothing she'd seen as a kid. Princes and princesses were worshipped by her and Laurel in their naivety, yet if time travel told her one thing, it was most of those misconceptions were as unreal as the supernatural. And then she'd found that was real.

At least she was faring somewhat better than Charlie, Zari, and Mick. The former two women were draped in brown linen, passing themselves off as Sara's handmaidens (which Zari believed would help them blend in). Charlie, however, looked a bit offended at the circumstances. She said playing the queen was the role she preferred over hired help. Mick, sporting dungy wear, was going to be Sara's bodyguard, and hopefully, they would be able to pass off the flaming gun he carried that was not of this time.

Turning past a dried-up tree, Sara heard a clunk and glanced back to see Mick's gun held out. "Put the gun away!"

"Uh, why?" He asked.

"We're in a time where people believed in magic. You want them to think we're sorcerers or something?"

"Not like they were wrong," Zari surmised cheekily.

"Hey, hold on a sec!" Charlie interrupted, pointing to a clearing spot obscured by leaves just up ahead. "What's that?

Everyone saw what she was getting at, making even more sense when a shape passed behind it. Throwing caution to the wind, Mick aimed his gun to the spot. "If it's a bandit, then they're toast," he muttered, and let loose the flames.

Sarah's warning came too late as the geyser of fire seared into the direction and then evaporated, charring an abundance of leaves. General shock soon turned to relief as they all saw that the person who had been in the flame's way was unharmed He was a scrawny man dressed in brown rags, with a blue undershirt and a red scarf. His black hair frayed from the blast, he looked resilient. Which was…odd, but better in their case than crispy.

"You okay, kid?" Sara asked bluntly.

The boy's eyes got so wide that they looked close to popping. "Am I okay? You ask me that after nearly burning me? Of course not! Getting put in the stocks is bad enough, but being burned…in the woods?!..." His ragged breathing began to slow while he got closer, inspecting the four with his features. "Hold on…Is that a staff? You know that magic isn't allowed in these parts."

"Consider it my torch," Mick replied toughly.

"For what? Casting spells?"

"For being our bodyguard," Charlie said in Mick's defense, earning the boy's inquisitive glare.

"Come to think of it… who exactly are you that you'd need a bodyguard?"

The Legends looked to each other. At this point, their excuse for being here was still in the oven.

"We're here…" Zari began nervously.

"…on a visitation!" Charlie finished effortlessly. She walked up to him with her hands out for the con. "Sorry for the crispy introduction. We're a few miles off from our destination, Camelot, and needed directions. Make sense, mister…?"

"Merlin," the young man breathed, surveying the group with a hopeful and yet suspicious look (and not noticing some of their party's gaping at his name)."And…you're from a kingdom?"

"Yep! The kingdom of Starda!" Sara tried her hardest to sound natural and not at the same time demean this person. "We…wanted to go see Camelot for ourselves! Our king requested it!"

At that notion, the young man's face lightened up. "The kingdom of…Starda? Wow! So, uh…does your group need help to get to Camelot? I'm the manservant for Prince Arthur, actually, and I was just on my way back from an errand."

"That'd be much appreciated, mate," Charlie responded while locking eyes with Sara momentarily to confirm the juicy detail. "Lead the way!"

Slightly off-put by their behavior but thrilled at the opportunity, Merlin threw Gaius' task to the wind and turned into the closest bush. The Legends went after him, doing their best to not get poked by a tree and then some.

"Can I still burn something?" Mick whispered to Zari as they walked behind the young man.

"When we meet the monster? Feel free," Zari grimly mentioned, bringing a thick smile to her ally's lips.

* * *

At the edge of Camelot's gates, Arthur watched with worry. It was nice to be alone without guards watching over his shoulder, yet that didn't shake the feeling of why Merlin was missing. Sometimes, he wondered why he let Merlin stay on being his manservant if he was going to keep being…odd. No other servant he knew had survived as many encounters with invading knights or terrifying creatures and just brushed them off so easily.

That took real courage.

"What's wrong?" Arthur swerved as Morgana approached, looking curious. "Did you lose something?"

"Not funny, Morgana," he replied. "Merlin was supposed to get some herbs for Gaius, but, of course, he's taking longer than he should."

"He's your manservant," Morgana propositioned with carefully folded hands. "You don't need to worry this much about him. He can get back in one piece, surely."

Arthur shook his head and huffed. "I know, I know…but lately, I've been getting this feeling that Camelot isn't as safe as we make it out to be. It's like…we're some sort of nexus that all kinds of sorcerers and witches flock to." He blinked, believing that maybe he wasn't thinking right. "Does that make sense to you?"

Keeping her inside thoughts contained, Morgana nodded subtly. "Yes. It's unfortunate, but at least Merlin's still with us. You just shouldn't have to keep your brain racked about it, especially with the tournament coming up."

Just as he tried thinking of a clever comeback to that, Arthur heard rustling in the distance and looked even more than before. Merlin, to his relief, had come out of the shrubbery and onto the road but was closely flanked by around four people he didn't know. At least three women and a man dressed in dirty clothes, and they weren't wearing a sigil of any kind. Maybe they were neighboring royalty? He needed to be sure.

"Merlin! Where in blazes were you? And," he added while taking in the newcomers, "who are all of these people?"

The manservant grinned humorously. "These, dopplehead, are the princess of the kingdom of Starda, her bodyguard, and lady maids. They've come to visit our fair city."

"Starda?" Arthur looked to the blonde woman in the blue dress. He never heard of it before but decided that logics could wait and immediately dispensed with the formalities. "Welcome to Camelot, Princess-"

"-Sara, "she replied, bowing to the prince with the best curtesy she could manage. "It's an honor, your grace."

Morgana cast a suspicious look at the newcomers. Their garb had a peculiarity to it, and she doubted Uther wouldn't wait to inspect them about their customs. Her eyes flickered to the pale-skinned maid. Something about her honed in on Morgana's mystical side, attracting her like a hornet. These visitors weren't normal…but why get a ruffle started about something she could easily press upon later?

"As my brother mentioned, welcome. I will have the servants draw up some rooms for your company," Morgana dispensed before turning up the stairs, gaining all of their gazes.

"Is she okay?" Sara asked with no concern for being subtle.

"Yes," Arthur said. "She…was rescued from a witch some time ago. I don't think she's been the same since, but at least she's with us again." He turned to gaze momentarily into the distance, and Sara got the idea that it wasn't just Morgana who was feeling off. So far, this version of Arthur seemed more human that when she'd met him before.

And then an instant later, his smiling personality was back in full effect. "Would you dine with us tonight? Maybe my father would be kind enough to give your party seats to the tournament." As he finished with the invitation, a couple of lightly-dressed servants appeared to usher them away.

"Totally," Sara responded in an attempted at grace. "I shall see you later, my lord." She started up the steps to follow the servants, her party in tow and Arthur utterly agape at her response.

"Intriguing crowd, eh?" Merlin mentioned to Arthur while watching the four be escorted by a collection of servants up the castle steps.

"Merlin, one of these days, I'm going to have to figure out how you keep running into peculiar people.

"Trade secret, dopplehead."

* * *

Hidden underneath a weave of trees and branches, a lithe woman in a battered cloak carefully made her way down a hidden road. Her eyes surveyed the scene in front of her: a gang of men scattered on the ground, and very much dead. They had been ravaged, clearly by a creature capable of blood-gushing wounds. As she knelt to inspect one of the said victims, her hand reached out and released a quick gust of magic. Her mind could sense the kind of harm that had been visited upon them. Flashes of pain, cuts, and a searing presence lingered before she blinked back to the living world.

"As I suspected. It's headed to Camelot…where Morgana is."

Morgause stood up, her disguise falling behind her hair. She's heard stories of this monster from the high priestesses, but even they pictured it as a myth. Now she had the proof it was real, and the magic path she was sensing pointed to Camelot. An even worse coincidence to the witch tournament, she supposed. But her sister would need to know. It would ruin their plans of revenge if it got to her.

And no demon was going to take the kingdom from them; that belonged to the two sisters. Morgause reaffirmed this notion in her head as she took off.

* * *

**N/A: Round one of meetings is over! The Legends are about to meet the entire Merlin supporting cast, and the interactions may vary between calm to outright bad. But no need to spoil what happens here, including some nice cameos and maybe a certain DC character that I've been hinting at for a while. **

**Until next time!**


End file.
